


play me loud

by jrangel



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrangel/pseuds/jrangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troy never attended Greendale. More importantly, he never met the study group. After leaving high school, Troy pays most of his bills from the money he makes from stripping at private parties; after all, he’s got the body as well as the charisma to back it up. At one such party, he meets Abed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	play me loud

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Spoilers for Yahoo’s Season 6.  
> (2) Donald Glover’s upcoming role in Magic Mike XXL has got me having all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.  
> (3) Some characters might come off as a little OOC, but I tried my best. This is my first fic for the fandom after all.

At first he had been nervous. 

Annie Edison – Troy hadn’t recognized the name until the woman in question had answered the door. It was just his luck to pick up a gig from a former classmate, one that he had treated less than kindly in their adolescence. The bubbly and confident woman that welcomed him inside; however, was almost impossible to reconcile with the high-strung mess of a person he had shared homeroom with in high school.

“Troy?” Annie gasped, hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, Troy! It's been so long! How have you been?”

Grasping his arm, Annie dragged him inside and passed the other partygoers, pressing a beer into his hand as soon as they reached the kitchen.

“I had no idea you danced.” Annie began, her voice low and excited. “Did you dance in high school or is this a recent development?”

In truth, Troy had started taking classes his junior year after his coach told him it would help with his coordination but after a couple of months he had fallen in love with it.

“It was always something that I wanted to do,” Troy admitted easily, putting his beer aside. “But in high school it was too embarrassing so I never told anyone. I would have gone from starting quarterback to a guy that twirls around in tights like that, right?”

“And what changed after high school?” Annie asked, like she was genuinely interested, like she wasn’t just asking to get hot gossip on a former classmate. It made Troy wish that he had given her more of a chance when he was younger, when he could have made her high school life a little bit easier to bear.

“I guess I just realized that I was spending all this time and energy hiding something I was passionate about. It seemed like a waste, you know?”

She smiled then, warm and elated, like she was proud of him.

“I think I do.”

“Yeah. That and bills need to get paid, but enough about me. What about you?” Troy diverted as heat began to creep into his cheeks. “What are you doing with yourself?”

“Oh!” Annie exclaimed, a bright smile overtaking her face. He couldn’t remember her ever looking so happy while at Riverside. “I’m taking classes at Greendale.”

“The community college?” Troy asked.

“Yes! I’m studying forensic science, even got myself an internship at the FBI this summer. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Wow. Honestly, that’s great, Annie. I had no idea you were going all Law and Order.”

“I didn’t either, but Greendale has been really good for me. I really found myself there, actually—” Annie paused, gesturing to the surrounding room. “Most everyone here is a Greendale student.”

“Is that what the party is for? Celebrating before finals?”

“Tonight? No. My friends and I kind of ruined a wedding? We thought that throwing a do-over reception might make up for it.”

“Really? Um, do you mind me asking how?”

Annie blushed.

“I could fill you in later,” she conceded quietly, “but for now just know that it is a long story and that I’d rather not get myself into any more trouble with the happy couple.” 

Troy laughed, wondering what he had missed in the past few years that had turned little Annie “Adderall” into this woman who ruins weddings and hires strippers to soften the fallout. Maybe she had always been like this and he just hadn’t taken the time to find out.

“Fair enough,” Troy answered, before catching sight of a group of ladies outside the kitchen, giggling and looking his way. “So, how do you want to do this?” he asked, posture shifting as he began accessing the mindset he saved for work.

“Okay well, I’ve never hired a stripper before,” Annie explained. “So I thought it might be nice to just, go with the flow? I’ll introduce you to the room and then from there you’re free to mingle and make yourself at home. Sound okay?”

“Sounds great.”

And that was it. 

Right before leading him out of the kitchen, Annie had made these little _pew pew_ gun hands at his abandoned beer on the counter.

“Have fun,” she reminded him, winking like it was just a secret between old friends.

Dragging him back over to the living room, Troy watched in amazement as the petite brunette commanded the room’s attention with little more than a politely spoken, “Hey guys…”

“This is Troy,” Annie announced, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. “He will be providing tonight’s entertainment,” she added with a little wiggle of her hips.

A tall blond slouched into one of the couches whooped loudly, lifting a hand clutching a glass of scotch into the air.

“Annie, don’t tell me you hired us a stripper!” he yelled, speech slurred slightly.

“I got someone even better, Jeff. I got a _performer_.”

 

***

 

The night was going great. 

With the alcohol flowing and the music bumping, people were really beginning to cut loose. The newlyweds – Garrett and Stacy – had enjoyed a loudly applauded couple’s strip tease and even tipped Troy extra afterwards, stuffing one dollar bills down the front of his faux leather joggers. After that, a man who introduced himself as “Chang” challenged Troy to a pop n’ lock contest, which by all accounts Troy won hands down, but was ultimately disqualified for “parking on the dance floor” when Jeff pulled him aside to demand the address of his gym. 

Thankfully, it was a smartly dressed woman – Frankie, who was observant enough to butt in several minutes later, interrupting Troy’s long-winded explanation that no, he did not, in fact, work out.

“You got those abs just from dancing?” Jeff whined loudly. “What do you eat? Are you on that new astronaut diet, where you can only eat food that falls from the sky? Tell me!”

“Nah, dude.” Troy answered, eyes darting around for an escape. “None of that. I like Chick-fil-a too much.”

Just as Jeff’s eyes looked at risk of bulging out of his skull, Frankie swooped in with a fresh glass of scotch her hand, greeting Troy first before turning on Jeff.

“By the way,” She began, her tone clipped and business-like as she pressed the glass into Jeff’s palm. “This is less an example of “synergy” and more an indicator of that functioning alcoholism we discussed awhile back.” 

Taking a large gulp of scotch, Jeff sighed. “Sorry, Frankie. Wasn’t listening.”

It wasn’t until later, when Troy offered a chatty woman named Vicki a dance that the other woman sat on the couch beside her decided to make things awkward.

“You all are free to do whatever you want,” she addressed the room from her perch on the couch. “But as for me, I will not participate in this blatant exploitation! Exotic dancers are grossly abused and mistreated in this country for the benefit of a hyper-sexualized capitalistic market!”

It wasn’t the first time in his life a white woman had yelled at him, but it was the first time a white woman had lectured him on the ethics of his profession. And another thing…

“Lady, who are you calling exotic?” Troy sputtered, choking on his fourth – check that – fifth beer of the night. “What’s your name?”

The blonde sniffed lightly. “Britta.”

“Right, Britta.” 

God help him, he could salvage this. 

“How about you dance with me? Puts us on the same level then, right? Less exploitative?”

“Uh, no thanks, Troy. I don’t dance.”

“What are you talking about? Girls are supposed to dance, that’s why God gave them parts that jiggle.” 

Throwing in a leer and a wiggle of his eyebrows for good measure, Troy burst into giggles when Britta made a swipe at him with her leg.

“Now, c’mon.” He continued, grasping her hands and pulling her off the couch. “Don’t let these hips go to waste, Britta. I want to dance with you, don’t leave me hanging.”

Britta, as it turned out, was a terrible dancer, but she was laughing, shaking her hips along with Troy, her liberal agenda forgotten for the moment. 

The night was going great.

 

***

 

“Troy!”

Troy jerked around, breaking away from a group gathered in the kitchen.

“Hey, Annie.”

“Listen, I’ve got a job for you,” she said, motioning him over.

“Lay it on me.”

“Ok, first thing’s first. Would you be comfortable giving another guy a—” pausing to check around them, Annie hesitates a moment before continuing in a whisper. “A private dance?”

“Sure would,” Troy says with a slow drawl, unconcerned.

In the past, he might have been worried what people thought, but after three years of this kind of thing, there wasn’t much room for hang-ups if you wanted to make rent.

“Really? That’s great! I have this friend, Abed, maybe you’ve seen him around? Tall, leggy, like an Arabic Halle Berry?”

That adorable looking nerd huddled on the coach with Jeff? Oh yeah, Troy had noticed.

Troy nods.

“Well,” Annie continued. “He’s been making eyes at you all night and you guys haven’t talked once, have you? I’ve never known him to be shy about anything. I think…” she says, drawing out the word. “He has a crush. I just don’t think he’ll do anything about it, so…”

“So you decided to orchestrate something yourself,” Troy finishes for her.

“I tricked him into going into the bedroom at the end of the hall,” Annie answers smugly, arms crossed.

“So will you do it?” Annie asks.

“Shit.” Troy says, clicking his tongue once. “Okay, yeah I can do it.”

“Great!” Annie squeaks, jumping up and down. “Go get him! Go, go!” She urges, ushering him in the right direction. “Remember, he’s the group’s innocent. Hurt him and we hurt you.”

Damn psycho, Troy thinks fondly as he is shoved into the hallway. Must be nice to have support like that though.

Grasping the doorknob, Troy pushes inside, shutting the door behind him smoothly. Across the room, a lithe, dark-haired figure – Abed – is standing in front of a row of shelves, his back to the door.

“This is clearly your signature,” the other man chastises in a soft spoken monotone, seemingly unaware of Troy’s presence just yet. Fiddling with what looks like a box set between his hands, Abed pivots to face the room. “And you misspelled—oh.” 

Abed, wide-eyed and mouth agape, freezes as Troy falls within his eye line.

“Hey.” Troy greets softly, moving further into the room. “I don’t think we’ve actually been introduced. I’m—“

“Troy,” Abed answers quickly with little inflection to his voice. “I know.”

Troy nods, proceeding forward when Abed seems unwilling to say anything more.

“And you’re Abed?”

“Yeah,” the other man answers, averting his gaze. “But I think you already knew that. It’s obvious that Annie set this up, it’s why you came in here. She’s meddling.”

“She do that often?” Troy asks.

“More than she should be able to get away with,” Abed answers, dropping the box set – _Cougar Town, really?_ – onto the side table before slowly withdrawing from the shelves into the center of the bedroom. “She sent you in here because she’s convinced herself that we could have what the modern romantic comedy genre would describe as “a spark”. That and she has been binge watching Magic Mike for the past two weeks and thinks the stripper meet-cute trope is totally plausible in real life.”

Okay, not a no exactly.

“You want me to leave?” Troy asks carefully, testing the waters.

“You’re free to do whatever you want,” Abed replies evenly, although his gaze drops to the floor. “But there’s nothing keeping you here.”

There.

“We could pretend?” Troy says.

“Pretend what?” Abed asks, confused.

“That I’m your Magic Mike? That I’m in here to seduce the guy I have crazy chemistry with.”

Abed sucks contemplatively on his teeth, jaw shifting. “It’s not that simple.”

“But what if it is,” Troy begins, toeing the boundaries of personal space as he moved closer. “What if, I wanted to stay? What if, the idea of dancing for you got me hot?”

Dark eyes flicker up. “Does it?”

Bingo.

“Yeah,” Troy hums, reaching out to run a cautious hand down the other man’s arm, glad when he doesn’t draw away. “I noticed you earlier, you know that?”

“I must’ve missed that,” Abed says, nostrils flaring. 

“It was hard not to. You’ve got this sweet face, big dark eyes and that mouth,” Troy hesitates for a moment, before swaying a little closer. “But you already know you’re cute, don’t you?”

“I am pretty adorable,” Abed admits easily, although his voice softens even more and his delivery becomes suddenly shy.

“There’s my guy.” Troy praises with a lazy grin, squeezing the other man’s shoulder. “And I’m a good dancer and I like doing it. Makes me happy to dance for someone who'll appreciate it.”

Slipping his fingers under the other man’s cardigan, Troy slowly pushes the layer of fabric up and over Abed’s shoulders.

“Would that be something you might want, Abed?” Troy continues, pleased when he is allowed to remove the article of clothing entirely. “To watch me?”

Abed looks nervous, but considering, like he’s searching his mind for a reason to say no, but is falling short.

“Because I want that, Abed. I want to give you what you want.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, Troy, with his hands resting on the other man’s shoulders, fingers gently massaging, and Abed, whose tongue pokes out to lick at his bottom lip, deep in thought.

“Okay,” Abed answers after a minute.

It’s confirmation, but Troy wants to make sure.

“Yeah?” he asks, his thumb making tiny circles in the fabric of Abed’s shirt

Abed nods. 

“Please.”

Permission given, Troy reacts. 

Corralling the other man towards the bed, Troy pushes Abed onto the mattress with a slick shove. Abed bounces with the force of his weight, scrambling to sit upright with the aid of his forearms; eyes suddenly fever bright and searching. Seeing the other man's reaction, Troy smiles wide, the best shit-eating grin he can muster – the one leftover from the jock mentality he had long ago abandoned – and tugs his shirt over his head before tossing it aside. 

This was his element.

Troy goes through his routine. Performing a series of smooth isolations in order to draw the other man’s attention on the hypnotic sway of his hips, Troy moves to the music drifting in from the party outside. To Troy’s delight a noticeable tent appears to be forming in the other man’s jeans after only a few minutes, and like that, the visual validation of Abed's arousal sends a delicious flash of heat down his own spine.

Wanting Abed to speak, Troy rasps, “Tell me what you want.” And then, “You want something more, don’t you?”

But the other man is silent, his eyes skimming over Troy’s body intently, taking in every inch of him.

“Come on, use your words,” Troy insists.

“I want you closer,” Abed says finally, voice an octave lower, deeper.

Sliding between Abed’s parted thighs, Troy begins to move his hips in a slow roll, nothing but syrupy, liquid heat.

It’s transparent that someone taught him how to touch there, shift there, use no hands at all to garner a reaction. Troy sees how Abed responds when Troy smiles invitingly down at him from between his legs, like Abed doesn’t quite believe it, but he wants to. Abed stares at him with a sort of intense concentration, creases of a frown spreading across his forehead like he’s trying to figure him out. Troy gets it. Troy’s not really himself right now, not when he’s wearing someone else.

Turning around, Troy presses his body against Abed’s before sliding low, feels Abed’s chest expand in a sharp inhale as he brushes against something hard and confined within the other man’s pants. The ghost of Abed’s cock against his ass through fabric that’s too thin, too tight, is almost too much for Troy. All of the sudden, Troy feels light headed and flushed, and way too present for anything good to come of this. 

Damn his proclivity for butt stuff. 

One hand on each of Abed’s thighs, Troy pushes himself back up quickly before climbing into the other man’s lap.

“Is this okay?” Troy breathes into the space between them, rocking forward into the unforgiving heat beneath him. “Is this what you want?”

Abed makes a small noise like a whine, knuckles pale from gripping the comforter underneath them.

“Can I touch you?” Abed asks, hips bucking upward on their own accord.

Clamping his mouth shut Troy bites his tongue in an attempt to keep the words from spilling out, but they pour out anyway.

“Yes, yes, yes…” Troy gasps, voice thick, less fluid than before.

They rut helplessly into each other for a few minutes, lost in sensation.

“You know what Annie told me before she sent me in here?” Troy asks, breaking the silence.

“Nuh-no…” Abed stutters out, fingers grasping for purchase on Troy’s hips as his own hips jerk upwards in response.

“She told me you were the group’s innocent,” Troy answers breathlessly.

Running his hands through the other man’s thick black hair, Troy cradles Abed’s head close as he continues to writhe in his lap. 

“I know better,” Troy gasps when a particularly hard thrust nearly dismounts him from his post. Abed’s other hand connects with Troy’s thigh, gripping tight to try and stabilize him and suddenly Troy’s so hard it hurts. Trying to regain some composure, Troy pushes a hand under Abed’s shirt, scratching his nails lightly on Abed’s belly and then across his chest. Abed gasps, like the air has been knocked out of him, his eyes falling shut, overwhelmed.

Abed comes within those next few minutes and Troy laughs softly as the other man presses their lips together in those last moments, sweetly parting Troy’s lips as he gasped small noises into his mouth. Catching his breath, Abed's hands slide over Troy’s waistband, as though he wants to return the favor, but Troy catches them before those wandering fingers can dip any lower.

“I can’t,” Troy breathes out in a rush, chest heaving slightly as he tries to calm himself. “Not while I’m on the job.”

Abed withdraws his hands, but otherwise leaves them resting on Troy’s hips.

Tilting his head, expression considering, Abed asks, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”


End file.
